Mathideton woke up from his green cot, much to his displeasure. The sailors on this particular vessel had little to no respect for a sleeping man. Drow or not, he deserved respect not given unto him by the stereotyping public who observed his skin as a mark of strife that lived to kill. The common drow who worshipped spiders and hated all other elves.

They weren't too far off the mark, that much he admitted. By all means, the chaotic nature of wars and battles were a welcome feeling for him, something to revel in his inherent prrowess with the blade. But the bit about living to kill was all backwards. Literally, actually. He killed to live, such as his chosen profession indicated. A mercenary by heart, he owed allegiance not to the man with the biggest army, but to the man with the biggest purse.

Mind slowly drifting back to the ship, he sat up, moth-eaten blanket sliding away. "We've arrived, sir. The crew would rest a bit easier without a drow onboard. We'd feel much better if ye just payed and left." The man said dryly.

"I find your enthusiasm refreshing." Mathideton said sluggishly, as he reached for his purse and payed the thirty gold for his fare. Standing up, he strapped the laquered sheath to his belt, pulled his cloak on, hooded his face, and exited the room. The light of day nearly blinded him, Even having spent several years aboveground had not changed that eternal curse of his heritage.

After recieving several stares by the crew members, he dutifully left the ship quickly and curtly, Stepping onto the dock. The first step into his new life.

"Whats this, a drow on a ship?" Valindor said to an aged drow standing only inches infront of him. "Never seen anything like you, drow" Valindor added with a husky tone, before spitting to the drows feet. "Get out of here before i have yer head
for me 'stockin ya filfthy beast" Valindor warned the Drow. The Drow turned his head around, gave off a stare and continued walking along the port. Valindor
had other things to do then Argue with a Drow, who was no match to a man like
himself. Valindor picked up the last box of sheepskin and hauled it onto the ship
known as the "Virgin Mary" which was a transporter of sheepskin and bearfur.
Valindor had been working on this for several weeks now, earning him enough
money to buy a new travelling cloak, after his previous one was torn by spiders.

Valindor made way to the bar by the port for a 10 minute break, before he'd have
to leave on the Virgin mary. He took a seat by an old cloaked figure, who he recognized as the Merchant of illegal goods, who was based around the port.
"Eh, what ya got today ya filfth?" Valindor said in a whispered tone, directing it
at the Illegal merchant. Valindor knew that the Merchant could be killed easily,
therefore treated him as such. "Nothing for you, unless you like old bearcoats"
the merchant replied quite loudly. The rest of the men in the bar looked over at this
and the merchant then decided to lower his voice. "Eh, ya filfth" Valindor said as
he quickly skulled down his ale and left the bar, slamming the small door in his path.

Boarding the Virgin mary, Valindor sheathed his massive sword and hid it under his
overcloak, making sure not to cause any disturbances, as if he did he would lose
the job and all the gold in which he needed. The ship started to get ready, when the Drow in which he'd seen before (and warned) walked by the ship, scowling at the young mage. "Weird" Valindor thought as the ship started sail.
This'd be a long trip for the amount of wages that he recieves.

Scowl still on his face, he looked back at the ship. The young one had stood in front of him and cursed him openly, spitting at his feet. Mathideton felt his fury rising and couldn't help himself. Drawing his katana, He ran the length of the dock and drew his katana, a smooth hiss the only sound from it, a sound of cold and death.

'You'd think a man would be smarter than to perform such an act against a drow, no matter what your reasoning' He thought to himself. A board entered his sight, laying on a crate. Using the makeshift ramp, he leapt, thrusting the katana into the wooden exterior of the ship hull. He used the blade to pull himself up enough to seize the anchor chain, then sheathed the dirty sword. Climbing his way onto the deck, he looked around the deck for the dirty youth. He placed his left hand on the hilt of the sword, ready to draw again.

"Would you like to repeat your 'warning'?" he asked, a hint of mockery buried under his rough english. He looked the youth up and down, taking in the skinny frame. His eyes told him very little, apart from being a mage. That much was obvious, seeing how this youth was still alive with such a tongue in his mouth and no true muscle to be seen.

"So will you talk or lose a finger?" he asked, waggling his own.

"Don't mock me you fiend. I have powers that are unknown to even myself, don't cross me or I shall have your head severed from your neck and your body burnt to ashes." Valindor had become exceedingly annoyed and agitated now, the Drow had hit the fuse that released Valindor's temper. The youth gripped tightly onto his staff, see'ing the Drow with his hand gripped tightly upon the hilt of his blade.

"You wish for a fight, you fiend?" Valindor's staff was now tightly clenched infront of him, aimed up at the drows neck. The drow stepped back a step or two, a look of shock overcoming his ugly face. Valindor moved forward, his staff remaining aimed at the drow. Valindor was a youth, skinny as most saw him, but Wizards didn't need muscles, they had magic and staffs to replace that. "He, your a foolish kid aren't you." The drow said, the shock turning into a smirk as he pulled his sword from the sheathe.